Editor's Note: Nora M. writes about her fight to free her husband, Sergio, from ICE detention. After connecting with participatory defense organizers in San Mateo County, CA, she began to organize to bring Sergio home to their three children, all under the age of 5. This is one of a series of stories that were originally written for the "Protect Your People" book that are being published on the participatory defense website.
San Mateo County, CA
In 2018, my partner Sergio was arrested then transferred to Immigration and Customs
Enforcement (ICE). Each story is unique in its relevance, but sadly follows the well-worn
pathways set by hundreds of years of systemic racism, criminalization, colonization and
miseducation.
The participatory defense model is a multi-pronged game plan that takes on the criminal and
immigration court systems. These giant, unfathomable and terrifying monsters feed on our lack of knowledge and support.
One Saturday in early December, life was good for our family. Sergio and I took our three
children to a local holiday fair. It was a beautifully sunny but crisp afternoon. The kids screamed in delight as they rode the kiddy train. They skipped excitedly and as fast as their tiny legs could go. Three kids under the age of 4 fizzle out quickly though. It was a fun day but just a few hours later, we dropped off Sergio at work and I took the children home.
I went to bed that night expecting a call from Sergio to pick him up after his shift. The call never came and I woke up on Sunday thinking that he decided not to come over after all. At the time, he kept an apartment close to work so he wouldn’t bug me for rides late at night. I didn’t worry immediately, though I had called his cell numerous times that day with no answer. Finally, at 8pm his roommate called to say Sergio had been arrested earlier that afternoon but he couldn’t tell me where he had been taken.
I did an online search of the local facilities and learned he was at Maguire Jail. I was partially
relieved but only for a short while. My web search also yielded other limited information. Bail
had been set for $1,500 and he had a court hearing Monday at 1:30pm. I immediately began
collecting the funds. I had some savings but had to borrow the rest from family. I called a local
bond company and made arrangements to go Monday morning to sign the paperwork. I was told by the bondsman to call the jail for updates. I diligently called every few hours and was told the paperwork takes time to make it through the administrative process but that Sergio would be out no later than midnight.
In spite of being undocumented, my hope was that by paying the bail, his status would be less of a factor and my loved one would be released soon. This was wishful thinking on my part, but what did I know?
First Contact
The initial meeting of the individual or the family is one key factor of the participatory defense
model. I had spent the previous night sleeping fitfully, worried sick about my partner. I was led
to believe by everyone behind a desk that the bail paperwork was in process and Sergio’s release Monday night was certain.
Inside the courtroom that afternoon Sergio happened to sit just out of my line of site behind a
glass window along with 10 other people who were also waiting to go in front of the judge. I had no idea what was going on. I had zero experience with the legal system. All I wanted was to support Sergio but had no idea how. In the moment, all I had to offer was my presence. To be able to give Sergio some small reassurance that he wasn’t alone.
I sat quietly. Armed only with the information I had gotten from the jail’s website, from the bond company and San Mateo County court clerks. It wasn’t much. I felt completely disoriented, alone and frazzled from trying to think of the most basic next steps for us. My wildest fears became real that day. Did I need to start planning for single mom-hood? Would the kids be able to see their dad anytime soon?
The various clerks and staff I had spoken to for the last day and a half, did their job. They did
their job and, in the process made me feel confused, more stressed, uninformed and truly at the mercy of the court.
In the courtroom, I was approached by local organizer Lourdes Best who asked me if I was there in support of someone. I nodded yes and we walked outside briefly to fill out an intake form. “Lulu” mentioned she worked for Silicon Valley De-Bug and they could help Sergio and I with his case. I was skeptical but relieved someone was there who may know more than me. At that point, that was everyone in the courtroom.
We chatted for ten minutes outside the courtroom then went back inside. By then, Sergio had been called up and I missed my chance to see him. And to have him see me. Lulu took action right away and introduced me to the lawyer assigned to arraignment court that day. I would not have known that I could do this, nor would I have had the courage. But Lulu, I would find out later, had been in my shoes, having had to take the courts for family herself. She understood the inner workings, as much as I was unnerved by them.
We stood together in the hallway where Lulu asked for any information the lawyer may have on Sergio’s case. I informed him that I had paid the bail for Sergio earlier that morning and he was surprised. If the bail had been paid, Sergio should have been let out long ago, unless there was an ICE hold. He suggested I go to the jail to ask about the bail paperwork because his court documents did not indicate any ICE hold. A local jail will place an ICE hold on someone to prevent their release, due to previous contact with ICE unless the County has an official policy that disallows cooperation with ICE. At the time, San Mateo County still allowed the transfer of certain individuals.
No one had bothered to inform me that Sergio did indeed have an “Immigration Hold” placed in his file at Maguire. Maybe this was a confidentiality issue but no one had bothered to inform
Sergio about the hold either. After he was released on paper from the jail, he was immediately
taken to a waiting room where after two hours he was told that immigration wanted to speak with him. We were both kept in the dark by design. Inside the jail, he became easy pickings for ICE where he was handed over within 48 hours of his arrest.
Before we parted ways that day, Lulu provided the phone number for the First 24 (Rapid
Response Network), a national hotline that advises people about their immigration rights and
helps people in ICE detention. By this time, I still had no clear information about Sergio since I
hadn’t spoken with him since Saturday afternoon. I was still under the impression that the bond paperwork was in process so I didn’t call the hotline right away. This was a mistake, given the quick and smooth fashion jail and ICE officials made the system work against us. They’re even quicker when bail is posted on behalf of an undocumented individual.
The jail is just a few hundred yards from the courtroom, so I immediately walked over. The clerk informed me that there was no bail in process but to check if the bail company filed the
paperwork. The bail office sits kitty corner from the jail so I quickly walked that block too. That
attendant told me he would be filing the paperwork before 5:00pm to ensure Sergio’s release in the evening. I assumed all the information I was given was correct. I didn’t know the inner workings of a system that did not have Sergio’s best interests at heart. Because I didn’t see the bigger picture, I didn’t know what questions to ask. I was taught that police and judges are supposed to be my friends.
I wondered how hard this process must be for people who have English language challenges, that work regular jobs, don’t drive, have other disabilities or have to confront the entire process alone and with no money. I, on the other hand, have US citizenship. I was self-employed, command of the English language, a car and complete discretion over my schedule. My working class family had some privileges but our other advantage was early intervention by Silicon Valley De-Bug.
I can imagine how much easier it is to give up without a fight. Because fighting the system, and even squeezing basic information out of it, is a harrowing experience that defeats many people out of the gate. But I did all I could that day, even though I felt it wasn’t much. I went home that afternoon to pick up the kids from school. And to spend another fitful night, trying to rest and keep my worries from the children.
My glimmer of hope for Sergio’s prompt release died over night.
Tuesday morning I woke up with a knot in my stomach. I had not received a call from Sergio
overnight as expected. I called the jail and was told he had been already been released. I called the bondsman and he confirmed the same. This made me even more stressed as my imagination went wild. If he had been released, why hadn’t he called me? Had he spent the night on the street?
Around 9am, I finally received a call from Sergio who said he had been released from Maguire, but was immediately transferred to ICE the previous night. He had been taken to Yuba City jail overnight, but was bussed back to San Francisco Tuesday morning for ICE processing.
“Don’t sign any paperwork”, I warned as Lulu had recommended, “until you speak with an
immigration attorney”. My next call was to the First 24 (Rapid Response Network) to talk to a
lawyer about our situation.
Etan Newman with the RRN and Pangea Legal Services filed a request to release Sergio on his own recognizance or bond and to have him housed in Northern California. With rampant
overcrowding in ICE facilities, and detainees having very little say as to where they are sent, we wanted to keep Sergio as close to home as possible. Although he was eventually moved to Mesa Verde ICE facility in Bakersfield, it was still over 250 miles away from his family and
community.
This was the beginning of our odyssey of the American immigration system. Though sometimes it felt more like a scam. Too frequently, dealing with immigration felt like a plot against Sergio, not a plan with a set of tools to help us navigate the various components for the best outcome possible. The scheme is one fraught with peace-meal information, defeatist processes and one that assumes undocumented people have little right to humane treatment. Because they are not citizens, they are easy targets for mistreatment along the way toward deportation.
When next I spoke with Sergio on Thursday night, he described being bussed, with little access to food or water, and taken to Yuba County Jail 150 miles outside of San Francisco. He was there a few hours then thrown into another bus and driven to San Diego. He had spent a day and a half on the road where guards joked that he would “be going home soon.” He would have been summarily deported to Mexico but someone finally caught an error. Sergio is from in El Salvador, and had not signed any voluntary departure paperwork. These types of massive and simple error occur when local jails allow ICE into our communities.
Lulu invited me to a participatory defense meeting the same week. The San Mateo County hub is run out of East Palo Alto, our home town on Thursdays. Lulu explained I could share Sergio’s case, listen to other cases and gather information and ideas as to what we could do. I was immediately interested in attending. The situation was even more urgent in my mind, because Sergio had almost been deported to the wrong country within 72 hours of his arrest.
In these PD meeting, the gift of collective knowledge, and the shared experience of the
participants is an immediate way that individuals receive not only support and access to
resources, but also reassurance that they are not alone in the fight. Although I was born in
Mexico, I had been raised in the American ethic of “pulling myself up by the bootstraps.” I was
warmly accepted into this newfound community which relieved my isolation and opened my
heart. As Sergio was to enter one of the most isolating times of his life, people took my hand and made me feel empowered too. I could be vulnerable with them, because they were vulnerable with me. And that built a relationship based on trust.
Participants share updates on what they accomplished that week. It is also a time to be in
community with empathic people who sit in solidarity, rather than in judgement. If anything kept me going back to the PD meetings, it was the sense that Sergio would be treated like a person, not as disposable. And that I could actually do a lot to help Sergio. He was “my loved one”, and every person in the room had someone they were fighting for too.
None of the people in the room are lawyers, that point is made clear from the beginning. But the information, ideas and tools I received came from years of experience with the Crimmigration System. This term describes the entanglements between the criminal and immigration courts. Untying the knots was knowledge I did not yet possess. What makes an individual worth saving, is not written into the letter of the law, but on the hearts of the people that find him valuable.
I showed up the first day not really knowing what I would learn. But it was clear that these
people cared and were there to help me. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I would form
relationships that persist and nourish our family to this day.
From the beginning, I felt no hesitation in trusting my fellow PD partners because I understood
that Sergio and I had become part of something much bigger than us. These people had
something we didn’t. Each one had experience and information. And if they didn’t have that,
they had questions. Learning what questions to ask of the judge, the lawyer, the bail company, the jail clerk opens the first few doors because it proves to them that you have done your homework. At the PD meetings, I received a crash course in the immigration system glossary of terms, legal-eze and a list of FAQ’s. Slowly, I gained the confidence and fortitude to keep pushing to bring Sergio home.
Each week, I spent time with folks who understood the seriousness of our situation. But who
were also present for the micro-wins. I got my homework each week. While I did the grunt work on the outside, Sergio also contacted his family in El Salvador to gather documentation to build his case. A 250 mile drive would be too much for a 1-, 2-, and 3-year-old as well as their overwhelmed mom. A 45-minute visit behind a glass window where they wouldn’t be able to hug or kiss their dad, would have traumatized them even more. Each night, I emphasized how hard we were working for him. While in detention, the easiest thing to lose is hope. He already felt helpless but he had capacity for some things, which helped. As I gathered hope from the people around me, I could speak hope into his ear during our nightly calls. He also spoke with the kids often. We told them daddy was working and he would be home soon. At the time, they were all too little to understand the passage of time so we did the best we could to protect their fragile psyches.
The most immediate need was to find a lawyer. I consulted with several private immigration
attorneys willing to take the case. They charged way too much but still gave me little hope of
success. I spoke with one woman at a non-profit in Redwood City who quickly scanned Sergio’s record and told me I should start planning for his deportation. She said maybe “moving to El Salvador wouldn’t be so bad”. In my mind, I was disappointed that even these advocates, gave up on Sergio too soon. Many non-profits only take on easier cases that don’t involve both immigration and the criminal courts due to lack of funds or expertise with both immigration and criminal court. They were not willing to bet on Sergio. He doesn’t fit the outdated and inaccurate picture of the “good” immigrant with a flawless track record, pale skin or colored eyes. They couldn’t afford to help us because our case was too complicated.
Even with so much working against us, his past record, previous deportation, current charges left pending in San Mateo County…I was bolstered by my PD compatriots and organizers who
literally breathed life into us every day for months. Even when I felt discouraged, I knew I was
not alone. I did all I could to let Sergio feel how many people cared for him too. Our people were counting on him to not lose hope. “Hecha palante, que aqui estamos contigo. Todo va estar bien.” Keep moving forward, we’re here with you. Everything will be alright. I relayed that
message often to sustain him as much as for my own benefit.
In April 2019, after a three-month search, we were connected to a local non-profit called
Community Legal Services of East Palo Alto (CLSEPA). This wonderful news gave Sergio a
much-needed jolt of hope and validation. He now had more than just a fighting chance. He had the love of his family, support of his community as well as legal expertise behind him. An
exponentially more potent combination of unified strength which would move mountains for him eventually.
For the next several months I dedicated at least 15 hours a week to attending the PD meeting and working to bring Sergio home. I was a self-employed bookkeeper. I had my parenting and
household duties and volunteered at my kid’s pre-school. With so much going on in my life, the only way I could continue to function, was with the support I received from my Participatory Defense family, who became my backbone as well as my soft landing place. Since the beginning, I was determined to keep a stable home life for my children. I accomplished that with the help of my new village. I made friends and saw strangers who rallied, chanted and marched with me. It was the only way for me to keep sane, and support Sergio during the months of detention he suffered.
When Sergio’s court dates came up in immigration court, I was accompanied by De-Bug organizers Lourdes and Sarait Escorza. They sat taking notes, so I could focus on being
emotionally and physically present for Sergio. Normally, I’m a pretty good note-taker, and I
know the importance of recording the facts, but I was in no state to be able to focus on such an important task. The importance of providing court accompaniment, and its value as a practical matter as well as a huge emotional and psychological support for families cannot be overstated. Receiving this support, did wonders for my own mental health and wellness.
I learned how to prepare a Social-Biography Packet for the immigration judge. This packet
contains support letters from friends and family, pictures, and any other documents that
humanize Sergio in the eyes of the judge. Having a clearer portrait of the petitioner fights the
bias working against them. After all, judges are human too, and the Social-Bio packet expands
the judge’s perhaps narrow views, to a wider scope. It allows the person sitting on the bench, to mitigate who they read about on paper with a more complete picture of the actual human sitting in their court.
The Social-Bio packet became an important tool for the judge in his decision to approve an
immigration bond for Sergio. I studied the judges face and how he carefully weighed Sergio’s
past history, pending charges in San Mateo County, and the contents of the packet. He could no longer see my kid’s dad, as nonessential. Even though Sergio had prior charges that were almost ten years old, and the San Mateo County charges were only pending and technically the judge couldn’t take those into consideration in his decision to approve or deny bond, nonetheless they were in the back of his mind.
With every document in hand, through Sergio’s petition for “Withdrawal of Removal” was
denied by the judge, he did approve a $12,000 immigration bond. Although we could appeal that decision with the Board of Immigration, Sergio would get to come home for the second half of the fight. With the help of donations at rallies, a GoFundMe campaign, my own income, a loan from a friend, and finally $4,000 from the National Bail Fund (Freedom for Immigrants, in July 2019 Sergio came home.
Before the sun came up on July 24, I began the 250 mile drive to Bakersfield to pick him up personally. With no valid state ID, he couldn’t board the Greyhound bus which is a requirement. A local volunteer with the National Bail Fund in Bakersfield opened their home to him the previous evening, because due to a clerical error, the bond had posted too late and he was released a day later than expected. After almost eight months in ICE detention, Sergio was able to hold his family in his arms.
After dozens of meetings, rallies, two fundraisers, a thousand tears – Sergio came home after
eight months in ICE detention.
When Sergio’s petition for withholding of removal was denied; although he was granted a
release on bond, we still had the pending charges in San Mateo County to confront. Although we could set aside the immigration issue for a while, San Mateo County could potentially cause yet more damage to our family. That we had a coalition of individuals behind and beside us, gave us a clear advantage. Without these folks, I would be telling a very different story today.
In this struggle, I learned that each of us has the right to tell our story. I was shown how valuable my voice could be to the larger movement. And that if people didn’t hear about it, it never happened. I found that the stories of others mirrored my own. Some of the details a bit different,but the consequences were the same. The resulting fear, stress, heartbreak, isolation, depression, desperation. All were the common denominators.
This process is a continuous cycle of direct action, political will, patience, timing, people power, storytelling, lots of hope and a dash of luck. Building a movement, is a practice in uplifting individuals – one by one.